The garage door was still open.
It wasn’t supposed to be.
The mechanic usually locked it behind them. But maybe this time he wanted to make a point.
Marley was on her knees again.
Her lips were swollen. Her mascara was streaked. Her throat ached from how deep he’d f****d it the last time. She didn’t know how long it had been. Minutes. Hours. She no longer cared.
The other girl — the one who’d brought her — was lying flat on her back beside a pile of greasy rags. Her legs were open. Her p***y red and puffy. Her lips parted in a blissed-out smile. c*m dripped from her inner thighs, staining the floor.
The mechanic stood over them.
Still hard.
Still hungry.
He tugged Marley up by her hair and made her bend over the hood of a car he hadn’t worked on in years. She didn’t fight it. She
